The Tree Of Inequality Poem by Alexandro Johns

The tree of inequality grew up
In the midst of The Garden of Earthly Delights,
But nobody wants to see it.
It may reach to tear the clouds
So it's higher than The Tower of Babel.

From its tousled branches are hanging
Heads of children, black, yellow and white hands,
Wombs of forgotten women and dried hearts;
All these hidden by misleading lights of hype.

The tree smells like bleak corner,
Rusty alley and drug from dunghill,
But the stench of its shade is covered
By perfumes and masks of glamour.

The big bosses of the garden
Openly make use of this tree:
They sell to us its branches
As if were sandalwood or fake ivory pieces.

The pain of its foliage receives
The blessing and guards' care:
They fear that a collapse or a forest fire
Destroys the domains of their bucolic lives.

They have made us believe that
It is The Tree of Knowledge,
And everybody think we can neither touch it
Nor change its stubborn evil;
It is not true,
We must clean its roots and purify its sap
For The Tree of Life that will reborn over us.